Part III: Achilles Arrives

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The arrival of Achilles in Troy was nothing short of a spectacle.

The Myrmidons marched through the city gates, their armor gleaming in the sunlight, their presence a clear signal that the Greeks had come not just to fight, but to win. And at the head of the column rode Achilles, the greatest warrior of his time, a man whose very name struck fear into the hearts of his enemies.

Amara watched from the shadows as Achilles dismounted, his gaze sweeping over the city with a mix of curiosity and disdain.

She had known him since they were children, had seen the boy before he became a legend. Back then, they had been friends, bonded by their mutual connection to Odysseus, who was her uncle and his mentor. But as they grew, their paths had diverged. Achilles had chosen the path of glory, while Amara had sought wisdom and peace.

Now, seeing him again after so many years, Amara felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite name. She had fallen for him long ago, a love that had never been spoken but had always lingered in her heart. But she knew Achilles too well; his love for battle and fame was stronger than anything she could offer.

As she watched him now, commanding his men with effortless authority, she wondered if there was still a way to reach him. Could she convince him to abandon his pursuit of glory and help save Troy? Or would he be the instrument of its destruction?






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